


Zoltar Speaks to Rick

by JayKess



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Feel free to imagine it in the future, Gen, No Slash, Parody of the Tom Hanks movie Big, Sorry Not Sorry, This story is very innocent, Trans Male Character, Wasn't my intention, male-male friendship, maybe a little too Freudian for comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayKess/pseuds/JayKess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys visit the carnival, and Rick stumbles upon a robotic wizard with the power to grant wishes. Rick makes one, not thinking it would work. All sorts of misadventures ensue as Rick desperately tries to find the wizard again to change him back to his old self. Can his "friends" help?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to fanfiction.net. 
> 
> Dedicated, once again, to Halloween Banana (HB)!
> 
> Even though this story is part of my own head canon, there are little details inspired by various authors in this fandom. The most obvious one being Rick's mother's would-be girl name for Rick, and his surname. Also, the fact that Rick's mother wanted him to be a girl, but I always imagined that's what his mother was like anyway. However, my version of her is not nearly as overbearing as Mercury Starlight's depiction. Just a bit disappointed that he wasn't born with a "Regina."
> 
> So kudos and BIG apologies to Mercury Starlight (WoolandWater). If you haven't read Love & Mobsters yet, you should.
> 
> I actually told myself to remember this part when posting, but I got so wrapped up in learning the ropes of A03. I'm such a self-centered prat, what can I say.

Since the cat shat out more change than normal for the last couple weeks, the boys all agreed to go to the carnival. They knew they'd regret wasting their little windfall on something so frivolous the next time they were faced with an empty fridge (save the occasional Eskimo), and Neil's disgusting lentil concoctions. However, they also knew they wouldn't be the young ones very long.

The only one not too keen on going was Rick. He had a phobia of clowns and roller coasters, and did not want Vyvyan to find out. After telling the others that he'd rather stay behind to do some work, Vyvyan accused him of wanting to stay behind so he could dress up like a girl. It had been a couple weeks since Neil found Rick's dress, and Vyvyan brought it up every chance he got.

“That's not twoo Vyvyan!”

“Is so, girlie! You wish you were a pretty little girl! Admit it or I'll bash your ugly face in!” Vyvyan screeched as he held a fist in front of Rick's face which was bright red. He looked like he was going to burst from anger, embarrassment and fear all at once. He didn't want to admit the truth, so he took the punch instead. A busted lip was better than having the other three know his humiliating secret (and Cliff knows whoever else Vyvyan would tell).

Vyvyan had to stitch up Rick's lower lip with some dental floss he kept handy for such occasions, so by the time the four of them got to the carnival it was night time. All the lights and screaming roller coaster patrons were making Rick feel a little dizzy and nauseous. He decided to come along in order to prove to Vyvyan he was wrong, but immediately regretted it when Vyvyan suggested what Rick dreaded most.

“Let's go on the roller coaster!”

“All right, Vyv, good idea. Better do that one first before we get something to eat,” Mike said.

“Yeah, I hope we can, like, sit in the front! We shouldn't even, like, hang on!” Neil waved his long arms over his head as he said this, his eyes wider than Rick's when someone insulted Cliff Richard or Felicity Kendall in his presence. The others couldn't remember the last time they saw Neil this excited. He was even smiling a little...Who knew Neil had teeth.

“Erm...I think I'll just get something to eat...”

“C'mon, Rick,” Mike said as he clapped him on the back. “If you don't join us one of us is going to have to sit next to a stranger, and I'll tell you boys right now, it's not going to be me unless it's a nice-looking bird (looks into the camera), because that's what I call a perfect stranger, folks.”

Vyvyan walked over to Rick, tenderly put a hand on his shoulder and tried to put on a pouty, sad face, which really just made him look constipated...Considering his recent diet mostly consisted of cornflakes, ketchup, lentils and television sets he probably was.

“That's okay, Rick. It's probably too scary for a prissy girl like you.”

Rick saw red.

“All wight, young man, that is the bloody limit!”

Rick made out to punch him, but Vyvyan effortlessly blocked his fist and knee-kicked him in the stomach. Rick doubled over on the ground.

“Oh, c'mon, Vyv, stop being so heavy for just one night, we're supposed to be having fun!” Neil said as he helped Rick up. Neil often felt sorry for Rick even though he treated him like the stuff growing in the kitchen cupboard. He new Vyvyan got to him more than he let on, because his room was right next to his and some nights he could hear Rick crying through the thin bedroom wall they shared between their beds. He also felt a bit guilty for being the one to reveal Rick's dress in the first place, which was still in his overstuffed laundry bag. He felt that he should wash it for him since Rick was always telling him he smelled.

“Well, I am having fun, Neil!”

“We should all be having fun, Vyvyan!”

“Shut up you stupid hippy!” Rick said as he rubbed his stomach.

“C'mon boys we're wasting time, this place closes in two hours. Rick, if you want to sit this one out, that's fine, and Vyv won't bother you about it will ya Vyv?” Vyvyan looked down at his boots.

“Fine...Prick,” he mumbled. Rick shot him a “V” sign, and Mike handed him some of the cat turd money so he could get some food, but when he saw a clown near the food tent, he let out a short, high-pitched squeal and walked in the opposite direction.

He was feeling so awful, both physically and emotionally, that he just kept walking with his eyes on the popcorn and cotton candy littered ground, not paying attention to where he was going. After a few minutes he came across some strange sort of arcade game that was hidden behind an out-of-order kiddy ride covered in blood. The game, which was called Zoltar Speaks, illuminated Rick's spotty, tear-streaked face as he stared at the turban-wearing, animatronic wizard. Even though he knew it wasn't true, it felt like Zoltar was not just staring into his eyes, but also staring into his soul. This thing scared him more than the clown he saw earlier...Yet he could not look away. Instead, he took out a coin, and put it in the slot. The object of the game was to shoot the coin into Zoltar's opening and closing mouth, and if you did, you got to make a wish. Rick knew it wasn't for real, but there was something about the game that made him want to play anyway. When he got a good aim, he pressed the release button and the coin shot directly into Zoltar's mouth.

“Gwate. Of course the others aren't here to see,” Rick mumbled to himself.

As Zoltar waited for him to make his wish, his dark eyes still staring into Rick's waif-like ones in a way that almost made his bottom runny for the third time that week, Rick thought carefully for a few moments. Then Zoltar spoke:

“C'mon, kid, I haven't got all day!”

“Okay, okay, I wish...I was a pretty little girl!!” It was the first thing that popped into his head, and he figured it didn't matter what he wished for since this was just pretend.

Zoltar closed his eyes and bowed his head at Rick. A card shot out from one of the slots by Rick's waist, and he took it out to read the message. It simply read: “Wish Granted.”

 

“What a complete load of bollocks,” Rick said out loud as he rolled his eyes. After Zoltar shot him a “V” sign, he noticed an unplugged cord next to Zoltar Speaks...He picked it up and realized it belonged to the game. His eyes bulged more than usual, and he ran towards the roller coaster where he could see and hear Neil yelling with his arms above his head in the first cart as it plummetted down the first hill: “Vegetable rights and peace!”

“Back to normal life,” Rick thought to himself, as he calmed down from his eery encounter.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Rick woke up to the sound of Vyvyan yelling at Neil to get out of the lavatory, because he was going to be sick. Rick thought it served him right for eating six hot dogs the previous night, even after he lectured him about how eating meat was murder and that the average hot dog had several species of insect and rat fur in it. That, of course, just made Vyvyan want to eat more of them.

It was still very early (about noon), so he decided to go back to sleep. But hang on...

His bed seemed bigger. Rick sat up and noticed he was wearing a girly, frilly, white nightgown with pink flower imprints, instead of his usual nightwear. He bolted out of bed and to his utter shock realized he was in the body of an eight year old girl. The reflection in the mirror atop his dresser confirmed it...He even had real pig tails! To his brief delight, his face was no longer spotty, his busted lip was healed, and he looked very cute indeed...The way he always wished he could look when he was a little boy, and the way his mother did, too. Since he always had effeminate features to begin with, he really just looked like he did when he was eight, but with longer hair.

“Blaaaaaahhhggghrrr!!”

Rick was jolted out of his reverie to the sound of Vyvyan retching outside his door.

“Oh my god,” Rick thought to himself. He knew he had to somehow get to the carnival so he could take his wish back from Zoltar, but there was no way he was going to let the others see him like this. If he explained the situation, then Vyvyan would know that he wished to be a girl, and he would never hear the end of it.

“Neeeeeil!! Clean up my sick when you get done with the lav! It was your fault anyway!”

“Okay, Vyvyan, just, like, wait a minute! The toilet won't give me back the plunger. He's being really heavy this morning.”

“Well, you better hurry, because it's eating through the floor!”

All the commotion going on outside his bedroom door was making it harder for Rick to think about how he was going to get out of the house without the others seeing him. Also, what was he going to wear? He opened his closet and to his amazement he found a whole wardrobe of girl clothes in place of his old clothes. Zoltar really thought of everything didn't he? What a chap.

Rick picked out a dark green pinafore, a long sleeved, white shirt, white knee socks and black, buckle shoes. He wished he had a full length mirror, because despite all his panic, he really wanted to admire his reflection for a bit.

After he got dressed, he walked up to his dresser to see what little change was left from his parents' monthly allowance after Vyvyan stole most of it to buy hamster food, Vodka, cigarettes and Ajax. He noticed the “Wish Granted” card he left on top of it, and realized he had to dispose of all the evidence of this event before he left for the carnival. Vyvyan rummaged through his personal belongings on a daily basis, and until he changed back to his old self, he was going to have to spend the night somewhere else. Where, he had no idea at the moment, but he would worry about that later. He had a suitcase to pack with all his girl clothes, and a window to climb out of.

Just as he finished packing, Vyvyan's fist punched right through Rick's door. He fumbled with the lock to let himself in as Rick flung himself and his suitcase under the bed.

“Rick! I need one of your shirts to clean up my sick, otherwise we're going to have a huge hole in the kitchen ceiling!”

Rick tried to not make any noise breathing, but he was hyperventilating as he watched Vyvyan's boots thunder across his bedroom floor. He heard him swing open the door to his closet, but of course, all of Rick's clothes were gone. Vyvyan looked through his dresser drawers (well, pulled them out and tossed them aside) but found nothing but sociology textbooks and spot cream. 

“Rick!! Where are you?! Where are all your clothes you bastard!”

Vyvyan crouched down to look under the bed, but before he had a chance to look Mike called for him from the hall.

“Vyvyan, I've got a towel here, but it's giving me a hard time! It wants nothing to do with your mess!”

As Vyvyan left his room, Rick let out a long sigh as he closed his eyes to thank the Almighty Cliff Richard and Mike TheCoolPerson.

Climbing out his bedroom window with a suitcase was difficult, but he managed it. Not without a few cuts on his legs and getting his outfit all dirty and torn from landing in a hedge, though. As if this whole ordeal wasn't stressful enough, he had to walk around town looking a mess. The only thing pleasant about the situation was that for a brief moment in time, he could feel happy with his looks. At least things couldn't get any worse.

 

A deafening clap of thunder immediately followed a lightning bolt that practically lit up all of London. Torrential rain poured into his eyes as he looked around the empty carnival grounds for a place to take cover. All the rides and games and kiosks had mysteriously vanished in the middle of the night, along with the Zoltar Speaks game. He had seen stranger occurrences in his life, but still.

Rick found an empty bus stop shelter to take refuge in. Since he was alone, and he was a little girl, he felt no shame in bawling his eyes out. Eventually, a middle-aged woman coming home from shopping came across him. She immediately took pity on the trembling, drenched, sobbing little girl. Judging from the suitcase, she assumed she was running away.

“Hello, love. What's the matter? Where are your parents?”

“Er...Um...I don't have any.”

The lady looked at Rick with a knowing smile. She sat down next to him, and put a hand on his back.

“Is that so? Because to me it looks like you might be running away from home.”

“No, no I'm not. I, er, I'm going home, actually. I'm only crwying because...I don't have enough money for the bus...It was...Stolen.” Rick mentally congratulated himself on his quickness of thought, even though it would've been clear to anyone that he was lying.

“Ah, I see. Would you like a sweetie?”  
Rick accepted. He hadn't eaten a thing all day, and it was already close to tea time. As he ate the toffees, she asked him his name and if everything was all right at home. He struggled with the first question. He remembered the name that his mother would've named him if he was a girl...Regina. No way was he going to use that one. His mother planned on having a girl, and never really forgave Rick for not being what she wanted. Eventually he blurted out, “Vyvyan.”

“What a pretty name! I've always loved that name for a girl. My name's Mary.”

Rick almost burst out laughing. Oh, if only he could tell Vyvyan about this.

Rick explained to Mary how his home life was. It actually felt very cathartic to get it all off his chest, even if he had to make a few tweaks to the truth. He told her that his mother smelled and was either always cleaning, cooking, meditating or trying to kill herself. His father was either reading the paper or bringing strange birds into his bedroom, and his older brother, a med student, spent all his free time breaking furniture over his head, making fun of him for being a girl, sniffing Ajax or snogging his hamster. They also ignore or insult him when he tries to share some of his anti-Thatcher poetry with them. Mary looked stunned for a few moments, even though she assumed the little girl was exaggerating here and there. At least she hoped she was.

“Well, Vyvyan, you sound wise beyond your years, and it sounds like you have a lot to put up with...But I'm sure they love you, despite all their bad behavior.”

“No, they don't. They're a bunch of fascist twats,” he said, forgetting what he looked like.

“Oh, you shouldn't use that kind of language, Vyvyan! Especially a pretty little girl like you.”

Rick felt himself blush. He was starting to wish this was his mother. She smelled nice – like the perfume section in the department stores he remembered his mother taking him to as a lad. After spending what seemed like an eternity in a house that smelled like the bowels of Hell itself, this was heaven. If only he could hug her. She was the first person who spoke to him respectfully in a long, long time.

“Do you have kids?” He asked.

“Yes, I do. A little boy, about your age.”

“Did you ever wish...He was...Like, a girl?”

Mary laughed and looked at him as if his head just turned into a banana. “What?? No, of course not, why?”

“Well, it's just that my...Dad...Wishes I were a boy, I think. In fact, I'm sure he does. He always favors Vyv...I mean, uh, Rick. My brother.”

“Oh. Yes, sometimes parents do wish for their children to be a certain gender before they're born. I was hoping for a girl, but once I saw my baby boy for the first time I wouldn't have traded him for the world. I'm sure your parents feel the same way, even if they have a hard time showing it sometimes. And if they don't, you should remember that that's their problem, not yours. If they can't appreciate you for exactly the way you are...” Mary leaned in to whisper in Rick's ear, “To hell with them.”

Rick smiled at her, and Mary looked at him as if to say, “But you're not to use that kind of language yourself.”

Just then the bus pulled up. To Rick's dismay, Mary got up to gather her grocery bags.

“Would you like to come home with me? I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone. I can call your parents to let them know you're all right...And...I think I'd like to speak with them.”

Rick was very tempted by this offer, but quickly realized that it would just complicate things even more. He couldn't give the lady his share house number, and he couldn't give her his real parents' number since they would think she was a looney. 

“No, thanks, I'll be all right. I think I'm just going to go home. I live just a few blocks from here. Thanks for the toffees...And the advice.”

“You're welcome, love. You know you can always go to the police if things get...Very bad at home, right?”

Rick almost blurted out, “fascist pigs,” but said, “Yeah, I know. Thanks,” instead.

As Rick waved at the nice lady as the bus pulled away, he was suddenly struck with a brilliant idea. It was known to happen.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick was trying to warm up his shivering, scrawny body by rubbing his hands up and down his arms as he walked up to the door of his flat. The rain had stopped, but it was already dark on an unseasonably cold October night. Surely Zoltar knew he'd be in a predicament like this, so why hadn't he given him a little girl coat? All he'd found in his suitcase to ward off the cold was a thin sweater, but it didn't match his outfit. 

Anyway, if his plan was going to work he needed to look as pathetic as possible so he decided to leave the sweater, along with the suitcase, hidden behind the talkative statue and sunflower near the entrance. The cuts on his legs and the tears in his clothes from falling in the hedge definitely added to this effect, and even though he'd dried off considerably he still looked like he had been out in the rain all day. After his encounter with Mary, he spent the next couple hours in a cafe, working out the story he was going to tell his flatmates while warming up and soothing his nerves with a coffee. The waitress suggested a hot cocoa instead, but gave into the little girl's cute, precocious insistence that she was old enough and that she drank it all the time (unbeknownst to Rick, she had served him decaf, though). Rick thought that if he never found Zoltar again, he could get used to people kowtowing to his “girlish charms.” He spent a little more time in the cafe than necessary, daydreaming about becoming the first famous eight year old poet. He'd be hailed not only as a revolutionary leader, but a literary prodigy as well...And an adorable one at that! Not that he didn't already think all of this about himself anyway.

Knock Knock Knock.

Since the boys always made Neil answer the door, Rick was completely unprepared to be greeted with a more-than-usual perturbed-looking Vyvyan. The bottom of his stomach gave way, and he felt the color drain out of his face as the punk scowled down at him. At least his look of terror would make him look even more wretched he thought, but unlike Neil, Vyvyan wasn't exactly known for his hospitality. Rick was pretty sure he would never use violence on a little kid, especially a female one (which he felt was a bit sexist), yet he couldn't help but be irrationally paranoid that Vyvyan would somehow recognize him. Rick tried to speak, but he couldn't think straight. All his rehearsal in the cafe momentarily flew out the window.

“Yeah?! What do you want? I think you have the wrong house, kid.”

Rick gulped. “I...er...um....I need help...”

“Okay....With what?!....C'mon, you're making me miss the Basterd Squad!”

“Who is it, Vyvyan?” Mike said as he came to the door.

“I don't know, she seems lost. You deal with it.” Vyvyan stomped off to watch the telly as Mike took a kinder approach to this unusual visitor. As long as it wasn't another person “sent from god,” he was more than willing to be of service...Unless it was a bird sent from god, of course. Fixing problems were his specialty, and it made him feel taller. Rick calmed down quite a bit once Mike took over, and was able to remember his story and muster up a few tears. Considering the day he just had, it wasn't that hard.

(Between semi-fake sobbing.) “My name is Rhoda, and I'm an orphan, and I wan away from the orphanage, because it's run by a bunch of fascists, and since I'm getting too old to adopt I think they're going to send me to a Torwy-run workhouse. I'm lost now, though, and I was wondewing if you would let me stay here until somebody adopted me?” Brilliant, Rick thought. He normally tried to hide his speech impediment as best he could, but on this occasion he made no effort. Even though Mike felt bad for the kid, he had to hold back laughter at her anti-Thatcher rant and obviously made-up story.

“All right, well, that sounds horrible indeed. C'mon in out of the cold. I'll see if I can help. You like lentils? Because that's all we really have to offer you I'm afraid.”

“Uh...Yes! I love lentils. They're my favorite!” Mike raised an eyebrow. At least Neil's cooking wouldn't go unappreciated for one night. 

Mike had Rick take a seat at the kitchen table, and poured him a bowl of lentils and a cup of tea. Rick tucked right into it, vainly trying to hide his disgust as he pretended to really enjoy it. Mike sat down across from him with his own cup as he diplomatically asked some questions.

“What's so fascist about this orphanage, Rhoda?”

“Well, we only get one meal a day, and it's usually cold mush with cockroaches in it, and sometimes we draw straws to see who has to ask the warden for more, and that person is usually me because I'm, like, the unluckiest kid in the world, and I always get punished for it.”

“Mush and cockroaches?! Consider yourself lucky, kid!” Vyvyan said from the sofa.

“Oh dear oh dear. And how do they punish you orphans nowadays?” Mike thought this kid was a riot. For an eight year old, she really knew how to bullshit. A kid after his own heart.

“They whip our bottoms and lock us in the brwoom cupboard for days.” Mike almost choked on his tea, and Vyvyan was getting more entertainment from listening to the kid as he completely turned his attention away from the Basterd Squad. He had fond memories of conning grown-ups after his mother abandoned him ten years ago, and even though he was much better at it, he couldn't help but feel like this kid belonged on his team in the cruel game of life.

“I'm really sorry to hear about that, Rhoda. I had no idea our orphanages haven't improved much since the Victorian-era. I'm also sorry to tell you that you can't stay here with us. You see, we're just lowly students, well my flatmates are, who struggle to make ends meet as it is, and since one of them has up and left us this morning, the rent has gone up for each of us. You can stay in Rick's bedroom for the night, but if you don't start telling us the truth, I'm afraid I'm going to have to call the police to take you back to your parents.”

“But I don't have any!!” Rick screeched as he pushed away from the table and stood up. “I'm telling the truth, honestly! Okay, I exaggerated here and there, but I really am an orphan and I hate the orphanage! Please don't make me go back! Please don't call the pigs on me!” Rick felt like a balloon would feel after being popped by one of Vyvyan's Doc Martens upon finding out that he wasn't as convincing as he thought he was. No wonder his drama teacher always made him play inanimate objects for the school plays, and no wonder he managed to muck up those roles as well. 

Mike considered that maybe part of Rhoda's story could be true. In that case, he would call all nearby orphanages the next morning to see if any of them were missing a child. If they weren't, then he would have to call the pigs on the poor little kid. He had never come across a more pathetic-looking creature...Besides Rick and SPG, of course, he thought to himself

“Okay, calm down, kid. I believe you. You can stay here until we figure something out...”

Just then, Neil came through the front door with a bag of laundry. Mike introduced Neil to “Rhoda,” explained her situation, and told him, to his delight, that she loved his cooking. After they showed her to Rick's room, they went back downstairs for a house meeting. Rick snuck out of his room to listen as best he could from the top of the staircase:

“I think she just ran away from home. I'm going to call all the nearby orphanages first thing tomorrow, and if she doesn't belong to any of them I'm going to have to call the police, but you're not to say a word.”

“Oh, this has been, like, a really depressing day guys, hasn't it? I mean, first the toilet eats the plunger, then Rick disappears and now we have to call the pigs on a poor little orphan. I think I'm going to go to the backyard to work on my grave...”

“Neil, the only thing depressing about Rick disappearing is that now we each have to pay a third of the rent, and since I got most of my money from Rick, SPG and I are liable to starve together in the streets thanks to that girly bastard! And who am I going to torture now? SPG isn't nearly as fun.”

“You ungrateful, spotty git!” SPG piped up from the sitting room. 

“Vyvyan, it's your fault he left. You made him cry, like, every night since he's been here,” Neil said.

Rick swelled with a wave of hatred for the punk, and a small wave of gratitude for Neil telling it like it is, even though he was embarrassed to find out that Neil heard him crying. All this was Vyvyan's fault. If he hadn't tormented him about being a girl so much he never would've made that stupid wish, and would've wished for something better like world peace, or for Thatcher to get eaten by fire ants, or to finally lose his virginity. Instead, he had to contemplate a very probable future of orphanages. He almost went downstairs to confess the truth just so he could beat up Vyvyan who wouldn't be able to fight back on account of him being a real girl now, but he stopped himself. He couldn't let Vyvyan know, but maybe he could trust Neil with his secret, Rick thought, as he went back to his room to lie on his bed to think about how he was going to break the news to him. However, he drifted off to sleep the minute his head hit the pillow. His last thoughts were of how he wished he went home with Mary, and of the look on Vyvyan's face if he were to flush SPG down the toilet. Too bad he was a vegetarian, he thought.

 

The next morning, Rick woke up from a nightmare about being trapped in a Dickensian orphanage where Vyvyan, SPG and Charles Dickens himself went “muahahahahha” as they watched one of the caretakers slowly lower him into a cauldron filled with boiling hot water and lentils. For a brief moment he thought the events of the previous day had all been a dream as well, but of course it wasn't, he thought to himself. That only happens on the telly.

Then he remembered what the others had agreed to do the next morning. He hastily got up to change into the blue gingham dress Neil had given to him since it shrunk in the laundry. Rick pretended to wonder why he had it, and when Neil said that it belonged to his “cross-dresser friend Rick” he went red all the way up to his ears and involuntarily snorted.

Neil was still asleep in his room when he woke up, so Rick decided it was now or never. He would have to tell Neil, and hopefully he'd be able to help him find Zoltar before he was taken away.

“Neil, uh, my name's not Rhoda...” Rick said as he paced around Neil's bedroom, biting his nails, as Neil sat back down on his bed. 

“It's...It's Wick. It's me....Wick! I made a wish at the carnival and...”

Rick told him the whole story, from beginning to end (leaving out the bit about him telling Mary that he smelled and all that), and showed him the “Wish Granted” card.

“...Your first story was better, Rhoda...Although I don't know how you know so much about Rick...” Neil's eyes went wide as a lightbulb went on over his head (quite literally).

“You're a psycho!”

“Huh??”

“Oh, um, I mean, you're a psychic,” Neil said as he stood up and grabbed Rick by the shoulders.

“This is amazing!”

“No! No! I'm Wick you stupid hippy!! There's no such thing as psychics! There's a logical explanation for everything!” Rick yelled in his trademark, melodramatic way, arms flailing all about. Neil's jaw dropped.

“Oh...My...God...You're...”

“Yes! I'm....”

“Channeling Rick's spirit! Rick is DEAD! Oh no!”

Rick thought he was going to explode with frustration. He tore down Neil's astrological star chart and started tearing it to shreds, jumping up and down on the pieces screaming “No! No! No! You smelly, stupid bastard! No...”

Wait a minute. Maybe he could work with this...

“Um, yes, that's right Neil, this is Wick's ghost being channeled through a little girl,” He said with a distant, eery tone. “...And if you let her get taken away to the orphanage...I won't ever get to settle my unfinished business so that I can...cross over!” Rick smiled up at Neil, who just couldn't wait to tell the others that all his new age books weren't rubbish and to please stop using them for toilet paper when they ran out.

“No, no, you can't tell the others. They won't believe you or me, and then I'll be sent away to an orphanage or worse, a nut house. You want to help me, don't you?”

“Yes, Rick, I do, but how?”

Rick told him how someone in the spirit realm told him about a wizard named Zoltar that can bring the dead back to life, if you can only find him. He couldn't believe the hippy was buying this, but he didn't know that Neil once had six pairs of arms for two minutes and flew into outer space after smoking a bong, so this really wasn't much of a stretch for Neil.

“Okay, Rick, I'll help you find him. Don't worry.” Neil pulled Rick into a reassuring hug.

“Oh, and Rick?”

“Uggh, yeah?” He was gagging on Neil's body odor mixed in with the scent of marijuana and incense.

“Sorry for showing your dress to Vyvyan. That was really uncool and heavy of me.”


	4. Chapter 4

“...Vyvyan...Vyvyan!”

“Ow! What?!”

“It's your go!”

“Ugh. Rhoda, can we please finish this game later? I have homework to do,” Vyvyan said as he rubbed the red, sore spot on his forearm where the little anarchist had been pinching him every time he tried to cheat to make the two hour game of proper Monopoly finally end, or had been caught staring off into space wondering where on Earth his favorite punching bag went. It had been nearly a week since he left, and when Rick's monthly allowance arrived in the mail, Vyvyan and Mike wondered if even his parents knew. Up until then, they assumed he had simply gone home. Mike wasn't prone to worrying, and didn't particularly miss Rick per se. However, Vyvyan was clearly starting to feel a little bad about the whole thing, but Mike didn't dare bring it up since they were running out of dishes as it was, and Neil would probably end up in the A and E.

Neil pretended to worry and wonder along with them. He managed to convince the other two that Rhoda finally told the truth about her situation. She wasn't an orphan, but came from a poor, abusive family and feared for her life if they found out that she ran away (Rick was finally catching onto the fact that making Oliver Twist references would detract from the plausibility of his lies). Neil also told them that he had phoned his parents, and that they were going to stop by in a week to take her home with them; perhaps even adopt her. Mike thought this was odd, considering his parents were arrogant upperclassmen who probably wouldn't want anything to do with a poor, highly-ill mannered child such as Rhoda, but since Neil would have no motive to lie he decided to yield to Neil's insistence that Rhoda stay with them until then.

“No! We have to play it properly, and that means finishing it! Besides, I'm winning!”

“That's because I'm letting you, bogey bum!”

“That's not twoo! You're just jealous!”

“Yeah, right, I'm jealous of a snotty little girl because she's beating me at Monopoly! In case you haven't noticed, I'm an adult!” Vyvyan picked up SPG (who was playing with them) and got up off the sitting room floor. Rick snorted and sneered at the punk. 

“If you're an adult then I'm Cliff Richard!” He stood up as well and put a hand on his waist, leaning most of his weight on one foot. 

“And besides, I'm only snotty because I'm sick!” Rick wiped the back of his hand under his runny nose and wiped it on Vyvyan's denim vest. He had developed a nasty cold after that day in the rain. 

Before Rhoda had a chance to skip rope with his last nerve, Vyvyan tried to help with the symptoms by offering her what he liked to call “Vyvyan's Cold Brew.” It consisted of herbal tea, orange juice, ketchup, and copious amounts of vodka (he left out the petrol on account of his patient's age). Mike scolded him for giving a kid a drink, and Vyvyan emphatically insisted that his mother gave him alcohol all the time whenever he was sick and it always worked like a charm...He'd wake up days later and his cold was gone! Mike patiently explained to him that most mothers give their children chicken soup and medicine from the chemist. Vyvyan skulked off, drinking the vile concoction himself. Chicken soup. What a poofy, absurd remedy, he thought.

“Well whose fault is that?! And anyway, tomorrow Neil's parents are taking you away, and I happen to know they're really, really strict...And very, very boring! Just like you!” The punk kicked the Monopoly game, sending pieces everywhere, and stomped off to his bedroom. 

Mike, who was on his fifth newspaper at the kitchen table, didn't even look up. But Neil, who was fixing tea, dropped the pot of lentil casserole he was carrying at the mention of his parents. Both he and Rick looked at each other. Had it been a week already? 

For the last few days, Neil had been looking for and inquiring about carnivals in and around London, at Rick's request. When Rick's cold improved, he accompanied him on some of these errands, pretending to want to help Neil with the shopping and laundry out of boredom. They could never be gone for too long, though, since Vyvyan and Mike depended on Neil to wait on them hand and foot. When they couldn't find any carnivals, Rick insisted on checking out arcades. Neil wondered why a wizard would hang out in an arcade, but stopped questioning Rick after being told to shut up the first few times he asked about it. During one of their arcade visits, Rick had lost his temper at Neil and yelled, “Shut up you useless bastard!” This elicited many disapproving, “would-you-please-control-your-child” stares much to Neil's humiliation. He refused to take Rick anywhere after that, and Rick continuously berated him for not even trying and for wanting him to stay dead and for technically being a murderer for not helping him. Suffice it to say, it had been a long week for the hippy...He almost wished his parents were coming to take him away, but he knew that wouldn't be fair to the poor girl who was being possessed by his petulant housemate.

After Neil cleaned up the mess, and salvaged as much of the casserole as he could, he and Rick discussed what to do about the situation in the hippy's room. Rick suggested telling the others that Neil's parents just couldn't make it this week, and that they would stop by at a later date. Neil wasn't having any of this plan, partly due to the fact that this would draw suspicion from Mike and Vyvyan, and mostly due to the fact that he couldn't even contemplate spending another week like the last one. It seemed to him that Rick had become more...well...Rick ever since he took on the form of a little girl. No, he would have to give up this fruitless quest for the ever-elusive Zoltar, and convince Rick's spirit to be brave and cross over into the next dimension.

“Rick, I'm sorry, but I can't help you anymore. I know you don't want to be dead, unlike me, but death is natural and everything in nature is, like, really groovy, right? So please don't be afraid of crossing over, and please don't be angry with me...I don't want any bad karma...Even though I think I already have it.”

“Neil!! You can't give up! That will make you a murderer and you're a vegetarian!”

“Well, I don't really understand how that makes me a murderer since you're already dead, but if that's what you want to think, then fine, I'm used to people thinking bad things about me. If it will make you feel better I promise I will kill myself after you cross over so we can hang out in the next life, but only if you're not as heavy as you are now...”

“Neil, there is no next life, that's a total load of bullocks. And I'm not really dead. What I told you about me making a wish to be a girl at the carnival was true, okay?!” Rick didn't want to give up the “channeling-spirit” charade due to being mortified by the truth, but he decided that he had no choice.

“Prove it, Rick.”

“Ugh, nobody can pwoove that there's no afterlife, but if you stupid hippies could understand basic science then you would know that it doesn't look very prwomising!”

“No, I mean, like, prove that you were turned into a little girl.”

Rick sat down next to Neil on his bed, exhausted from being the only sensible person he knew. He tried to think of something that would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that his carnival story was true, but after a few moments, he got up and started to storm out of Neil's room in a fit of frustration. Then, when he got to the door, it dawned on him. He turned around to face Neil.

“My suitcase...I left it behind the statue at the entrance to the flat. Go get it, you'll see! You know the one that my parents gave me with my initials engraved on it? It's there! See for yourself! It's filled with all these girl clothes that Zoltar gave me! Just like I told you the first time!”

Neil did as he was told. Moments later he was back in his room with Rick. Rick pointed out his initials, and opened it up to show him the contents. Neil looked like he just swallowed one of Vyvyan's special formulas.

“You see, Neil, and I would never leave without my suitcase! Besides, why would I leave, anyway?! I wouldn't give up my illustrious student career all because of that fascist Vyvyan!”

“...And you wouldn't leave without your poetry, either, poof.”

Rick and Neil swung around to see a very amused-looking Vyvyan in the doorway. He couldn't help but over-hear “Rhoda” screaming at Neil from his bedroom, and decided to have a listen with his stethoscope pressed against Rick's adjacent bedroom wall. He held Rick's poetry notebook up in the air, grinning triumphantly.

Rick's bottom went runny.


	5. Chapter 5

“You know, I thought you reminded me of someone I knew...Just...Couldn't put my finger on it,” Vyvyan said as he sauntered into Neil's room towards Rick who was cowering behind an equally wide-eyed and trembling Neil. The punk looked like he had something up his non-existent sleeves for his hopeless housemate, and Rick knew it had to be something lethal. How could he have thought, even for a moment, that Torquemada incarnate wouldn't care if Rick was an actual little girl or not? This was the same bloke who threatened him with a howitzer just for lying about losing his virginity.

When Vyvyan was just inches away from the two, Neil unceremoniously bolted out of the room muttering the word “heavy” over and over again. Rick couldn't believe it. A man who fought for the rights of vegetables just sent a lamb to the slaughter...Metaphorically-speaking of course. Anyone could tell you that the lamb was by far the least doomed out of the two.

After Vyvyan threw the notebook out the window, sending shards of glass all over the floor, he reached into his vest and pulled out a switchblade. By now, Vyvyan had backed Rick into a corner.

“Wh-What do you think you're doing young man? You...You know they'll never let a murderer become a doctor, don't you? It goes against the Hypocritic Oath...Pl-Please, Vyvyan...I'm sorwy I made you play Monopoly the wight way...”

“It's the Hippocratic Oath you girly ignoramus, and I haven't taken it yet, have I? And besides, I don't want to kill you. Not at this moment in time anyway.” Vyvyan's voice was unusually non-screechy...Which made the situation all the more terrifying for Rick.

“Then what, pway tell, is the knife for?”

“I just wanted to help. I know how much you want to be a boy again, and I use that word very loosely mind you.”

Vyvyan grabbed one of Rick's pigtails and proceeded to cut it off. At first, Rick thought Vyvyan was trying to scalp him, but when the punk dangled the disembodied pigtail in front of Rick's face he was torn between feeling relieved and outraged. That was one of his pigtails! How could he?!

“I've been wanting to do that for a long time! Ha ha HA!” He tossed the pigtail aside at the last “ha.”

As Vyvyan grabbed the other one, Rick kicked him between the legs and ran over to the broken glass. He picked up a shard and held it in front of him, mustering up a pathetic excuse of a menacing scowl, as Vyvyan speedily recovered from the attack. To Rick's surprise, Vyvyan laughed as if he just heard the funniest joke in the world.

Rick tightened his grip on the weapon, causing the glass to pierce through his hand. The trickle of blood down his forearm startled him into dropping it.

“Now look what you made me do, you psychotic bastard!” Rick wiped the blood on his beloved gingham dress, and started to cry as he cradled his hand.

“What the HELL is going on here?!”

Mike, for the first time in his life, lost his cool as he completely misinterpreted the scene. Vyvyan was still holding his switchblade, an inconsolable “Rhoda” was covered in blood, surrounded by broken glass and missing half a head of hair. Neil stood right behind him.

“I told you, he's going to kill Rick! It's really Rick!”

Before Vyvyan (who was suddenly looking his version of contrite) had a chance to explain to the only person whose opinion mattered to him, Rick ran out the bedroom, downstairs to the front door and into the street. The others went after him, but before they had a chance to catch up Rick bumped into Mary. As soon as he realized who it was he hugged her and continued to cry. When the others had caught up it was too late; she saw the blood, the shorn hair, and a knife-wielding, Heat Miser of a punk running towards them. He was obviously the older brother that “Vyvyan” had described to her at the bus stop.

“So you must be Rick! Vyvyan told me all about you and you should be ashamed of yourself!” Mary said as she protectively hugged the little girl back. Vyvyan and the others looked at each other in confusion for a moment. Then Vyvyan attempted to explain as politely and innocently as he could, standing a little too close to Mary for comfort.

“Now this isn't what it looks like, miss. Believe me, it doesn't. That girl is actually a classmate of ours. He was turned into a little girl by an arcade machine. It's all a simple misunderstanding. I would never hurt a girl...Would you like to see me lift that car? I could eat it, too, if you want.” Vyvyan displayed his trademark, shit-eating grin that was meant to be his way of charming the ladies. Mike put on his sunglasses himself. Despite the gravity of the situation, they both were a little distracted by the motherly attractiveness of the woman holding Rick. His face was very close to her sizeable jugs, and they both felt a small pang of jealousy. This pang quickly subsided, though, when the three of them were sprayed in the face with mace.

“You're never going to touch this child again!”

Two police officers that seemed to materialize out of nowhere promptly started chasing after Mike, Vyvyan and Neil with their batons raised in the air. Since Mike's sunglasses shielded him from the mace, he tried to lead his two blind mates away from them. They ran and stumbled over garbage cans until they were caught by the pigs after a couple of blocks on top a heap of rubbish. Meanwhile, an obscure 80s band, which one would definitely have to conclude just sprung out of the ground, started playing music to the police chase. Eventually, all three of them found themselves cuffed in the back of a police car. Mike didn't seem all that phased by the situation as he assured the other two that he had connections. Neil, however, looked as if it had started raining Big Macs, and Vyvyan scowled as he cursed the little pRick for possibly requiring him to transfer to Scumbag Dental Academy.

“Don't worry fellas,” Mike said. “We'll be out of the pen before the day is out.”

“But what about Rick? They'll send him to an orphanage!” Neil said.

“So?!” Vyvyan shot back. “Maybe he'll turn out less of a girl when he grows up the second time 'round! Not that he did the first time!”

“But Vyvyan he is a girl! If anything he'll turn out to be more of one actually...”

“Yeah, yeah, I see where you're coming from Neil, but seeing as how Rick set the gold standard for girliness, even real girls are less girly!!!”

“Okay enough with all the girl talk, fellas. Three of my birds are on the rag already. Now, seeing as how we won't ever be seeing Rick again, I think it's time for a flashback montage,” Mike said somberly. The others agreed, and braced themselves for the fabric of space and time to wobble and blurr a bit. They watched a series of slow-motion Rick memories from their show set to what could only be described as a wistful, 1980s Howard Shore soundtrack...

 

Rick fetched his notebook from the lawn, gathered his suitcase full of girl clothes, and bid farewell to SPG and a very confused Mr. Balowski doing an improv sketch just for the hamster. Nobody had told him that they were following an actual plot this week. Mary watched the large, Russian landlord with a very befuddled and concerned look on her face as she waited for Rick to come back downstairs. She couldn't believe the living conditions that so many kids had to put up with in Thatcher's Britain these days as she took in her surroundings.

Rick left the poetry notebook on the kitchen table with a note by it that simply read the following words in capital, red letters (accompanied by the anarchy symbol):

SO LONG, OLD ONES! YOU FASCISTS!


	6. Chapter 6

It was a slow night at the Kebab and Calculator that evening, so Vyvyan had to endure watching Mike make out with his mother the bartender in a corner and Neil's depressing presence at the same time. He considered leaving, but he still had loads more of Rick's allowance to spend on more babycham and vodka. It had been a long day for all of them after all, which is why he originally split it three ways with his housemates. However, Vyvyan grabbed the money back from Neil after he said he was going to donate his share to an orphanage in Rick's memory.

What bothered Vyvyan most about the day, besides spending most of it in jail and playing Monopoly (Neil had pointed out the irony of this earlier in their cell and woke up hours later), was that note left on the kitchen table. It sounded like Rick was happy about starting life anew as a little girl now, and that bothered him since the thought of that prick being happy without them and rubbing their noses in it made him want to blow something up. He was already spoiled enough as it was with one nice family, and now he was off to get spoiled by another nice family...It was all too bloody nice for Rick, and all too bloody crap for Vyvyan whose only known relation abandoned him ten years ago and was well on her way to shagging one of the only friends that he actually liked.

“What are we going to tell his parents, Vyvyan?” Neil asked the slumped over, inebriated punk. He was on his seventh drink.

“Hmm. How 'bout we call them up and say, 'Hello Mr. and Mrs. Pratt. We're very sorry to break this to you, but your poofy son (hiccup) wished to be turned into a little girl by a wizard that lives in an arcade machine. We have no idea where he is, but he's probably being put up for adoption as we speak. Have a nice day then.'”

“...No, Vyv, I don't think that's a good way of breaking it to them,” Neil said seriously, clearly missing the aggravation and sarcasm in the punk's voice.

“Why you say that, Neil?”

“Well, because, like, this is something we should tell them in person I think.”

“Neil?”

“Yes?”

Smash. Vyvyan broke his unfinished glass of babycham over the hippy's head. The hippy's virgin Bloody Mary spilled all over him as he fell out of the chair, but he got up without complaint.

“Oi mum! Can you perhaps stop snogging my flatmate long enough to get me another drink!!” Vyvyan yelled from across the room.

“Get it yourself you spotty waste of skin!”

“Oh, look who's talking!!”

“Someone who's had more sex in a week than you will ever have in your entire life, you ugly bastard!” Ms. Vyvyan cackled loudly and went back to work on Mike's neck.

A combination of the alcohol and the thought of his mother having sex made him sick all over Neil's lap. His stomach gave him plenty of time to get to the lavatory, but the punk was starved for entertainment. To his disappointment, the hippy took it in stride as well.

“Oh, Vyvyan, are you all right? You need me to drive you home? I think you've had enough...” Neil said as he tried cleaning himself up with some napkins. By now the whole pub was looking over at them in disgust. Vyvyan just flipped them all the “V.”

“You're not allowed to be within five feet of it, remember?”

“Oh, right, yeah, sorry Vyv. I'll just walk home then. Same way I came. Even though it's raining. At least your sick and the tomato juice and the babycham will get washed off a bit. And I feel like I should keep looking for Zoltar actually, but, like, I think I need to be more zen about it, right? I mean, you know when you lose something and you look for it and look for it and it doesn't turn up then, like, days later, when you've stopped looking for it it turns up and usually it was right under your nose but...”

Smash.

“God I'm bored,” Vyvyan grumbled as he walked over to the bar.

 

Mary's flat was nothing like the house Rick had left. It wasn't much, in fact it was a lot smaller, but it was spotless and cozy, and it smelled like stew and kitty litter. He had the most delicious, lentil-and-cornflakes-free dinner with his soon-to-be adoptive family. Since they were nice enough to adopt him instead of sending him to an orphanage, he decided it wouldn't be proper to mention that he was a vegetarian. He also missed the taste of meat, too, and didn't think a child could be held responsible for violating his/her animal rights beliefs. Saying grace was extremely awkward for him as well, being an atheist, but it came naturally as he was raised by conservative parents. Pretending to believe in God would be a small price to pay to start childhood all over again and grow up to be the youngest poet laureate and revolutionary leader. He never thought he'd feel this way, but he hoped Thatcher would still be in office when he was in college again. When he slowly did the math in his head, he realized that wouldn't be until 1994! He imagined there would be flying cars by then, and hoped that Neil's prophecy about flares coming back was wrong.

The rest of his first evening with his new family was spent watching Sesame Street with Jamie, his adoptive, eight year old brother. Again, small price to pay, but to Rick's chagrin he was actually quite entertained at certain parts and even involuntarily laughed out loud at Oscar the Grouch. Jamie was a nice kid, but he could be downright annoying at times. He just didn't know when to shut up about the muppets and comic books, and he thought he was so bloody smart just because he beat Rick at cards that evening. Rick wanted to point out that you don't need to be smart to win at “Go Fish” because it was just a game of luck really, but decided not to in case he ever won a hand, which he never did. His new father repeatedly told Jamie that it wasn't nice to gloat as they played at the kitchen table, but he always said this rather laconically with his head behind a newspaper so Jamie just kept doing it. Rick felt oddly at home with his new family, even though life was considerably much calmer and more predictable now. He wondered why the cat couldn't talk, or any of the furniture for that matter, and it was strange how everything started following the laws of physics again. Life hadn't been like this since before he started college. Perhaps life is only exciting for college students, Rick was beginning to wonder. A pang of nostalgia for his old life hit him while he watched Jamie shuffle the cards, making sure he wasn't cheating.

When Mary said it was bedtime at half past eight, he was starting to remember how utterly crap it was to be a kid. It would probably be ages before he'd ever be able to dance alone in his room to a Cliff Richard song in nothing but his girl bait y-fronts using his comb for a microphone again...And it would be a very long time before he'd be able to call himself a student without having to actually attend school...And he would never get to make fun of Neil and fight with Vyvyan again and go on life-threatening and wonderfully absurd adventures with his old housemates...Wait, what? Did he really miss all that? No, he didn't. Mike, Neil and Vyvyan were the first friends he ever had that weren't imaginary, though, and even then he only ever had one who inexplicably called himself Drop Dead Fred and buggered off after only a few weeks since according to Fred he was “no fun and a hopeless poo hole.”

“Oh, Cliff, what have I done?” Rick thought to himself as he reluctantly went upstairs to get ready for bed.

As Rick watched himself in the mirror while brushing his teeth despite believing that it wasn't very anarchic to brush one's teeth before bed, he cursed Vyvyan for chopping off his hair. Mary got him a haircut to make him look presentable again, but the hairdresser had no choice but to give him a haircut not unlike Jamie's. If he wore boy clothes, he'd look almost exactly as he did when he was an eight year old boy, and seeing himself in the mirror like that brought back a flood of unpleasant memories from his childhood. He knew he'd be made fun of for having a boy haircut when he started school, which would be ironic since he was bullied a lot for his girlishly long hair when he was a little boy. He probably would have an even harder time making friends because he didn't know what kids his age were into, not that he ever did really, and he would be too bloody smart for them which would actually be true this time around. He learned the hard way growing up the first time that normal people don't take kindly to gifted people, and this time he'd be even more gifted...A gifted orphan, which was ten times worse. He also remembered that girls could be just as, if not more cruel than boys as he recalled being turned down and laughed at by so many girls he asked out. Also, he'd be attending public school this time around from the looks of his new family's modest surroundings. Private school was hard enough, but only Vyvyan's kind attended public school. As all these sobering realizations flooded his mind, he finished brushing his teeth and opened the drawer to put away the toothpaste...And then he saw it.

One of those telescopes with a mouse in it.

Rick closed the drawer and looked in the mirror at his horrified face. One day...One day...Blood was going to come out of...There...Once every month...Tears welled up in Rick's eyes.

“Oh, Zoltar, you complete and utter BASTARD!!!” Rick thought to himself.

Later that night, as Rick slept in Jamie's bed while he slept in his parents' room (the arrangement until Rick got his own bed), he picked up one of Jamie's stuffed animals. He asked him if he could talk like his teddy bears back at the share house, but received no reply, so he just cried himself to sleep.

 

Meanwhile, Vyvyan walked the streets of London in a drunken stupor, not really aiming for a particular destination. Mike asked to use the car, and since Vyvyan was seeing double, he let him. The rain had stopped, though, and he could see a carnival in the distance so he decided to spend the rest of Rick's money on some of those hot dogs to soothe his now empty stomach even though he knew he'd regret it the next morning.

Six hot dogs later, he found himself far away from the crowd and face-to-face with a poofy-looking wizard staring at him with oddly knowing eyes...

“Ah...You must be...Zoolta...Or whatever...You're a complete bastard for granting my friend's wish you know...And for making me have to spend my last 25p on him...Here...” Vyvyan inserted the coin and with great difficulty tried to aim at the opening and closing mouth, or mouths in his case. When he pressed the release button the coin missed the aim completely and a card shot out by his waist...

“Better luck next time,” it read. Vyvyan looked back up at the wizard who now had a smug-looking glint in his piercing eyes.

The punk's fist punched through the glass, and in minutes there was nothing left of the wizard but a heap of broken plastic. Vyvyan stared down at it with a dumbfounded look on his face as the lit-up words “Zoltar Speaks” on the front of the machine flickered out.

“That was probably a very stupid thing to do,” he mumbled before he passed out.


	7. Chapter 7

Later that night, Rick bolted awake to find himself drenched in sweat from a nightmare involving a giant red mouse chasing him down a school corridor with no exit. As he took in his unfamiliar surroundings, he heard the faint sound of a clock strike midnight. In several hours, Mary would be taking him to meet with the headmaster of Jamie's school to find out how soon they could have him enrolled. Rick hoped he was nothing like the enormous, fascist headmaster he had growing up, who was notorious for engorging himself with sweets while he watched his captive students write the same sentence thousands of times for even the most minor of infractions. Always the swotty sort, Rick only ever had to perform this task once for showing up late for class – after being trapped in the boy's lavatory by a couple of his “jealous” classmates – but once was enough. The resurfacing, painful memories of primary school made dealing with violent punks, stupid hippies, and bossy cool people seem like a cakewalk to Rick now. He vowed never to make another stupid wish again as he wiped a tear from his cheek.

“If wishes were fishes...We'd all be very wet,” he thought to himself. He couldn't remember exactly how that saying went, but he was pretty sure that was the gist of it.

The would-be anarchist switched on the bedside lamp and reached for the photograph he kept hidden under Jamie's mattress. It was the only thing from his past life that he brought along, aside from his suitcase. It showed him as an eight year old boy smiling from ear to ear with his parents beside him, and Big Ben looming over the happy family in the background. He remembered that day fondly, and wondered if he ever would or could be that happy again with his new family. 

Rick thought about telling Mary that the explanation Vyvyan offered her in the street was the truth, but quickly dismissed the idea. If his adoptive mother found out he was really a 20 year old man, well, Rick couldn't imagine the reaction, but he knew it would involve a great deal of disappointment at the very least. She just seemed so happy to have “Vyvyan” as her own now (Rick made a mental note to ask Mary if they could change his name). He was getting really tired of disappointing people with his gender.

It was then that he realized that if he was to remain a girl forever, he would finally be able to give his real mother what she had always wanted. As much as he hated the idea of disappointing Mary and living with his overbearing parents again, he knew it would be worse to have his real family spend the rest of their lives wondering who murdered their son as they would have no other explanation for his disappearance. They were far from perfect, but then again, what family isn't? Then his thoughts shifted to his old housemates.

They were bastards, Rick knew, but they were also his only friends. He wondered if they missed him as much as he missed them, but came to the sad realization that they probably didn't. Perhaps it was the trauma of the past week that caused him to have this sudden spark of self-awareness, which was probably the first one he ever had in his life.

Now there was no doubt in Rick's mind about what he should do. He had to tell Mary the truth, and then he had to have her take him back to his real parents' house. Maybe they would see a carnival on the train ride there, but Rick wasn't going to hold his breath. 

After he made up his mind, he realized how badly he had to pee. To his relief he hadn't wet the bed, which was a problem he didn't outgrow long after eight years old. “Maybe girls don't wet beds,” he thought to himself as he went to the lavatory. At least something good came out of this ordeal.

Vyvyan woke up to find himself surrounded by an immense, littered field, but the remains of Zoltar were nowhere to be found. The memory of what he did and the hotdogs he ate the night before made his stomach churn like never before, and that was saying something. To make matters worse for the punk, it was a beautiful morning. The foreign sensation of cool, fresh morning air filling his lungs made him light up a cigarette as he trudged on home. He looked as terrible as he felt yet somehow his tri-hawk had remained completely intact.

When he walked through the door an unusually cheerful Neil greeted him while Mike barely glanced up from his paper to say “Hey Vyv.” Before the punk had a chance to punch the grinning idiot in the face, the hippy told him that he came across a carnival on his way home last night where he finally found Zoltar and that he wished for Rick to be changed back. Vyvyan immediately perked up.

“You did?! Oh thank God!”

“Don't thank me, thank the hippy!” God said.

“Yeah, I had like, 50p on me so I made two wishes!” Vyvyan was especially excited now. Mike actually put down his paper, and asked Neil what he wished for.

“...And please don't tell us you wished for a life-time supply of lentils,” Mike added seriously.

“No, I didn't...Get this, right...I wished...For my clothes to be clean forever!!”

Neil was met with silence. A cricket could be heard before he packed up his suitcase to go to his next gig. 

“I was worried, because these are my best flares, right, I mean I've had them since 1975, and I was really depressed because I would probably have to throw them out. So look! The tomato juice is completely gone from my shirt and trousers...And Vyvyan's sick and babycham as well! Now you can be sick over me all you want and it won't make any difference!”

More silence.

“...Isn't that amazing?”

Partly because of his crippling nausea, but mostly because he wanted to test Neil's wasted wish, Vyvyan projectile vomited all over Neil. Within seconds there was a puff of smoke surrounding him and his clothes were clean again. Mike was only mildly impressed, but Vyvyan was gobsmacked.

“Neil! Not only did you make the most idiotic wish ever...Well, besides the one Rick made...But now you've made my life even more boring! And you might've thought to at least wish for all our clothes to be clean forever you selfish bastard!” Neil suddenly looked very guilty.

“Oh, wow. You're right, Vyvyan. That was very selfish of me...That's okay, though, 'cause I thought we could like just go back and make as many wishes as we want. Next time I'm going to wish for world peace and for everyone to love each other!”

“He's right, Vyv. Your mother didn't cost nearly as much as I thought she would.”

Vyvyan swallowed nervously.

“Umm...Right...Well...We can't exactly do that now Mike...I sort of...Broke Zoltar...Well, pulverized would be a better word for it...”

“What?! Why on Earth would you do that?! We could've had all the birds and money in the world!”

“...And all the lentils, too!”

“Shut up, Neil!” They cried in unison. Then Vyvyan told them what had happened. Neil looked very depressed, but that was nothing new. As usual, Mike just brushed the inconvenience aside since it wasn't like he ever had trouble acquiring birds and money anyway.

“At least Neil got to him on time. Now things can finally go back to normal and we won't have to worry about the rent anymore.”

“Yeah, if I never wished for Rick to be a boy again you'd be miserable, and like, really, really bored forever!”

Just as Vyvyan was about to knock Neil into last week – which would be nothing compared to the time he knocked Neil into prehistoric England – there was a knock at the door. The boys made Neil answer it even though Vyvyan was the closest.

There stood Mary, and next to her stood a little boy with a suitcase. It was unmistakably Rick. Not much about him had changed, though, except now he wore trousers, red converse sneakers, and a grey button down shirt with a blue blazer over it. Shocked and confused, Neil let them in.

“Hello...Boys...Um, I've brought Vyv – I mean, Rick – back to say goodbye before I take him to his parents. He explained everything to me, and, well, he insisted we stop by here first.” Mary clearly did not share Rick's desire to go anywhere near the place. Even though she now knew of Rick's true age, she still felt protective of him, especially concerning his three ex-flatmates. 

“Rick, I don't understand...I wished for you to change back last night!”

“Correction: You wished for him to be a boy again, Neil. Apparently you had to be more specific than that,” Mike said as he sidled up to Mary with a perverted smile.

Surprisingly, Rick didn't scold Neil, but instead just looked exasperated and smacked his forehead. He had a long and humiliating morning explaining things to Mary after she burst into the lavatory to see if he was all right after hearing him scream. His transformation in the middle of the night and the photograph eventually convinced her of his absurd story, though. She also remembered all the strange occurrences from her time in college in the 60s, although it was sometimes hard to tell which ones were real and which ones were drug induced.

“It's not your fault, Neil. Well, it is, but Zoltar is a fascist and you're just a stupid hippy so I forgive you.”

Vyvyan, Mike and especially Neil were floored by this unusually mature reaction for Rick, which was all the more endearing considering his current form. Neil hugged him, and Rick would've asked why he smelled good for once if he wasn't in the situation he was in. He felt so bad after telling Mary who he really was and that he couldn't be her daughter, even if he was still a girl. Unbeknownst to Rick, she was more shocked than disappointed. She knew it would be too insulting to mention it, but if it weren't for the evidence of that morning she never would've believed his story. He was just too convincing as a little girl.

“We'll just have to find him again, and be more specific next time 'round,” Rick said. Neil and Mike looked over at Vyvyan, and waited for him to be the one to break the bad news to Rick.

“Uhh...Rick...About that...”

As soon as Vyvyan finished his story, Rick was momentarily silent, unreadable and very pale. He just stared at the punk for a while, then his eyes widened and his face turned red. He lunged for the boy. The level of rage and the attack took Vyvyan by such surprise that Rick managed to knock him down. Both his fists were flying threw the air, doling out vicious punches to his flatmate's face, who wasn't making much of an effort to avoid them even though he could have easily thrown Rick off of him. He knew he deserved the beating, and knew it wouldn't be fair to fight back. By the time Neil and Mike pulled the fuming changeling off kicking and screaming, Vyvyan's nose was bleeding and throbbing with pain. Rick had made a special target of his nose ring.

“Rick! Please, calm down!” Mary said. “I think we should go. We've got a train to catch and we'll barely make it on time if we leave now.”

“Oh, it would be my pleasure to drive you both to the station. Vyv, can I borrow your car again?”

Before Mary had a chance to protest, Mike smoothly led her out the door, leaving Neil holding back a slightly calmer Rick from Vyvyan. The punk finally stood up, but kept his distance. Then he uttered three words that he never said before, at least not sarcastically. It was painful, but he managed it.

“I'm sorry, Rick.”

“Sorry? Sorry?! I have to live with my parents again and wait a whole decade until I can go back to college and without me to lead a revolution against Thatcher it'll probably be in some horrible dystopian future! And all you have to say is sorry?!”

“I don't know what else to say, Rick, I did try to wish you back to normal, well, back to a man, well....Oh, never mind. I was drunk so I didn't get a wish and Zoltar was a real prick about it so I lost it, okay? Besides, what about that stupid Cliff Richard song you love so much about being young...Now you will be a young one for very long!” Vyvyan looked hopeful that this would cheer Rick up, but he was mistaken.

“FUCK CLIFF RICHARD!!!”

Neil dropped Rick like a hot potato and covered his mouth. Vyvyan's jaw dropped, and then...

PUFF!!!

A large cloud of smoke engulfed Rick along with Neil. When it cleared, a 20 year old Rick was on the ground. Braids, spots, sutured lip and all.

“RICK! You're back!”

“Oh, wow! You must've broken the spell!”

Rick stood up, felt his braids, felt his face, felt his crotch...Just to make sure...He almost cried.

“Uh, Neil, what's all this from...” Rick gestured to the vomit and tomato juice stained ensemble that Neil wore.

“Oh, that's really heavy, Zoltar! I was careful what I wished for!”

Neil ran up the stairs to get changed. Vyvyan walked up to Rick. He would've given him a hug if he didn't think hugging a man was gay, so instead he just awkwardly shook his hand. 

“Nice to have you back, poof.”

“...Thanks. And thanks for trying to wish me back. You probably couldn't aim right sober anyway. Sorry about the nose.”

“It's all right.” Vyvyan wiped the back of his hand across it and wiped the blood on Rick's shirt who was too happy to be himself again to care. “But you owe me 25p you bastard.”

Mike walked through the door, rubbing his jaw. 

“Christ, who farted?” Mike waved away some of the lingering smoke. Vyvyan told him how Rick said “FUCK CLIFF RICHARD” and then changed back. Mike didn't bat an eyelash.

“All right, then. Strange rules, but whatever. Rick, Mary's still waiting for you.” 

Mike went back to his paper, and Rick said a bittersweet goodbye to Mary, who was eager to get back home away from all this craziness. She did, however, tell him he was welcome to stop by anytime if he ever felt like running away again for she wouldn't blame him.

When he walked through the door smiling, Vyvyan held out his poetry book to him.

“Thought you might want this back. I hope you don't mind, but I wrote a poem of my own in it. I wrote it just for you.”

Rick opened it up and read it out loud:

Roses are red  
Violets are blue  
Just like your eye is going to be you poofy bastard even though I missed you 

Rick's smile faltered, and he looked up.

POW!!!

Rick was knocked to the ground, but he wasn't angry in the least bit. It was nice to know he had friends he could count on. He looked up, expecting to see a self-satisfied Vyvyan, but saw a group of medieval peasants looking down at him instead...

“She must be a witch! Let's burn her!”

THE END

***In memory of Rik Mayall (1958 - 2014) – NAH! Just kidding. That would be very poofy of me. But thanks for a great show you bastard.

And thanks to Halloween Banana (HB) for all those encouraging reviews. I may not have finished this if it weren't for you! : )


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